When Mundus gets Bored
by Bustahead
Summary: When Mundus gets bored, you know it's never going to bode well...especially for his poor long suffering servant, Vergil. Expect lots of OOCness and craziness. Read, review, but most of all ENJOY!
1. Default Chapter

**When Mundus gets bored…**

It was another day in the Underworld. Now that he'd broken the seal that Sparda had forced him into, Mundus was free. Free as a bird. That was caged. The whole of Mallet Island had been sealed away; it no longer existed in the human world. Which was all fine and well for the humans, but it meant that there was very little entertainment to be had for the demons. And what was debatably even worse, was the fact that when Mallet Island had been sealed away from the human realm, Dante had thought it a great joke to make sure that the castle and the overgrown gardens were ravaged by falling rubble. Lovely. Of course, the possibility that Dante didn't _know_ that by sealing Mundus he'd cause the whole thing to collapse never entered Mundus' head. Of course, the devil prince hadn't actually _seen_ Dante's plane-flying antics as he escaped the island. If he had, he'd probably have wondered when Dante suddenly decided he knew how to fly planes. A man who decided to randomly pick up relics without really thinking about it, or pick up items sewn into paintings only after asking some invisible somebody whether he should take said item or not surely would never have been able to fly a plane.

In fact, Mundus had a feeling that if someone observed Dante's behaviour around the castle, they'd be more inclined to admit that the demon hunter was insane. Mundus was incredibly sane by comparison. Sure he decided to take on the form of a marble statue, who was clothed only in a loincloth, but that was beside the point. _Completely_ beside the point.

About half a year had passed since his crushing defeat. Well, crushing was an inaccurate word, because everyone knew he was going to come back at some time or another. He wasn't sure when yet, he hadn't really planned that part yet. He hadn't even planned what exactly he was going to do with the human world once he got it. All he knew was that he was going to come back and torment Dante somehow. _But not just yet._ Dante would still be on his guard, and would be all too ready. It had nothing to do with the fact that many of Mundus' soldiers had been killed at Dante's hands. Nothing at all!

Until the time came for Mundus to return to the human world in order to try and gain control yet again, he had to frit away his time. Doing what though? Dope? He had done that for the past millennia, how else had he been able to come up with his plan for human realm domination? It had been such a wonderful plan too, sending his army of pet cats turned evil, his army of children toys that had failed with the kid friendly test and of course, his famous bug collection. His father had been so pleased when he had won the best bug award for the tenth millennia in a row! And now all of them were squished. His poor Beelzebub…

He sniffed and tried to sit up in his throne, to maintain a dignified expression. Which was hard to do considering his throne consisted of a huge barrel. He himself had been literally cut down to size and had been forced to take the form of a turkey that had somehow gotten itself washed up on Mallet Island. Not that it wasn't already humiliating enough that he'd been turned into a turkey, but the fact that it was a female turkey and not a male was even worse.

There was a sudden crash and a yowl of pain. A shadow yowled as it ran past him. He gobbled with terror and then flapped heavily onto his throne, staring at the shadow balefully. That was another new threat that had come his way. Shadows were cat-demons, and cats liked birds. To eat. To be held hostage by one of his own pets was perhaps one of the most embarrassing blows that Dante had struck upon him.

For some odd reason, this shadow didn't seem at all intent on eating him. On the contrary, it climbed into a little hole and hid. Before Mundus knew what was happening, Vergil came limping up, triumphantly carrying a strange square box with a glass screen. Mundus eyed it warily.

'What is that?' he demanded, his normally gravely voice a high-pitched gobble. Vergil looked at him in horror.

'This is a television! It's called a TV for short! Haven't you seen one before?' He asked, trying to sound polite, while trying to keep the thunderstruck expression from his face and voice. Mundus shook his head.

'What does it do?'

'It…erm…it shows moving pictures…' Vergil flustered, unsure of how to answer the question. 'You switch it on, and the screen starts playing these moving pictures with sound.' He looked at Mundus anxiously, hoping that this explanation would be enough, but to his disappointment, Mundus just looked even more confused.

'Show me,' he commanded imperiously. Vergil felt his heart sink. How could he show Mundus, when there wasn't a plug to be seen?

'I can't,' Vergil muttered. Mundus' eyes widened and he gobbled with irritation.

'Why not? I want to see the magic moving pictures! I WANT PICTURES! I WANT PICTURES!' he started to yell. Vergil rolled his eyes. If he had ever told Mundus that he was acting like Dante, he'd probably lose his head. And his balls. That thought was far too scary to even contemplate properly. Vergil eventually sighed, getting fed up with Mundus' constant wailing.

'I can't because this is not from the Underworld.' Mundus stopped whimpering immediately and eyed him suspiciously.

'S'not?' he whinged. Vergil shook his head, feeling slightly nervous. 'Where s'it from?' Mundus hiccupped, his wings flapping as he tried to keep his wattle from wobbling. Vergil sighed and looked away. 'I demand you to tell me!' Mundus started gobbling with rage. A shadow suddenly appeared from behind Vergil's leg and leered at Mundus hungrily. Mundus hiccupped again before squawking and flopping off his throne just as the shadow pounced. Vergil caught the shadow and started cooing at it, stroking it behind its ears and rubbing its belly.

'Who's a good kitty? Whoooooooo's a goooooooood kitty?' Mundus aimed a taloned kick at the shadow, which promptly hissed. Vergil pouted and frowned at Mundus. 'What did you do that for? Now you got Cuddles all upset!'

'I demand you to tell me where you got this "Veeeeeeeeee-Teeeeeeeee" from!'

'What'll happen to me if I don't?' Vergil retorted, puffing his chest out and trying to look intimidating. Which he did. He was dressed in his blue clothes again, and his hair had been styled back to its former spikiness. All in all, he looked like the human version of Sonic the Hedgehog. Except with a choice of two swords, the ability to turn into a demon, and equipped with hair gel. Constantly. All in all, human Sonic the Hedgehog he might have been, but he was damned proud of it. He still hadn't told anyone how he had adored the games when he was younger, and how he had forced Dante to be Knuckles the Echidna all the time while he got the starring role of the blue hedgehog.

Until the day he called Sparda "Dr. Robotnik" and then "Eggman" and hit him over the head and broke his monocle with a frying pan. Then all the Sonic games were thrown into the trashcan and the Master System and Genesis was never seen again. Then Mario entered the fray. Dante was all too happy to pretend to be the fat little plumber, but Vergil refused to play along and be Luigi. Green was not his colour.

Mundus cut into his thoughts suddenly, popping the happy little memory bubble that Vergil had entered.

'If you don't tell me where you got that Taaaa-Veeee from, I shall call forth the forces of the most evil, most bizaare, and indeed, most terrifying of all my soliders!' Mundus yelled dramatically. Vergil's eyes promptly welled up with tears and he sank to his knees, blubbering.

'No! You don't mean-'

'Yes. I do. I shall send my legions and legions of evil twisted hell sluts upon you!' Vergil blinked and looked pleased. Before, the most evil, most bizaare and most terrifying of Mundus' soliders had been the mannequins that looked like Chuckie from that horror film…which was imaginatively called "Chuckie". But having hell sluts set upon him didn't seem that big a deal. It had been a while since he'd gotten to use his…sword.

The hell sluts suddenly entered the room, and any thoughts about having some action immediately deserted him. They were dressed wildly, and daubed in makeup that looked more like war paint, with lipstick on their teeth! These were no hell sluts! These were-

'_Male_ hell sluts!' Mundus boasted proudly. 'GET HIM!' He gobbled, his wattle wobbling dangerously. Vergil shrieked, grabbed Cuddles and climbed the nearest tree he could find. Which did him little good considering an errant boulder had felled the tree when Mallet Island had started to crumble. Cuddles mewed and started grooming himself, apparently unconcerned.

'CALL THEM OFF! CALL THEM OFF!' Vergil squealed. Mundus sighed and called for the male hell sluts to retreat. Vergil climbed down the tree and sniffled.

'Now! Bow down to me and tell me where you got the…the…Tee…Taa…Tuu…_thing_ from!' Vergil prostrated himself before the turkey.

'I got it from the human realm, sire.' Mundus gobbled, eyes wide.

'Then we must go to the human realm!'

'But I thought you said that you were only going to return when you are in the body of a man or humanoid being and that you would only return once you had a brilliant devious plan constructed by your own wicked devious and cunning mind!' Vergil yelped.

'Yes. But this is more important. I WANT TO SEE THE MOVING PICTURES! NOW FOLLOW ME! OFF TO THE HUMAN REALM WE GO!' Mundus crowed, walking off. Vergil blinked and watched him waddle off. It was only a couple of moments before Mundus ambled back, looking slightly ruffled yet struggling to look dignified.

'Vergil?'

'Yes Master?'

'How _did_ you get to the human realm?'

'I found another portal.'

'Where?'

'In the loo.' Mundus blinked. 'The bog,' Vergil tried to elaborate. Mundus continued to look nonplussed. 'In the toilet!' Vergil snapped, irritated. Mundus cocked his head to one side, wattle wiggling from side to side.

'What's a-'

'Oh never mind! Come on!' Vergil stormed off, annoyed and huffy. Mundus gobbled with delight. Finally! It seemed that he was finally going to have an adventure to take the edge of his boredom!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

So off they went, to the toilet, a facility which demons had never heard of, a facility that only Vergil had the ability to use being well…half human. It was a good job he knew how to use one, for he had a mother who had refused to let her sons crap on the sidewalk or in the bushes like Sparda did.

Vergil remembered the time when he and Dante had been desperate to go to the toilet and Eva had been out on some kind of business trip, leaving the not-too-capable Sparda to rear them. They had gone to the park, because the only way to shut Dante up and stop him being hyper was to get him to a park, let him swing on the swings, let him climb the monkey bars, let him scream for help as he got caught in the climbing net and get pummelled by the local bully.

It was something that was a common occurrence, and Sparda had learnt that it was better just to roll his eyes sanctimoniously rather than turn into a demon, threaten to make stew out of the bully and then proceed to scare the living crap out of everyone by claiming that he was the spawn of Satan. Which he was, but the humans weren't to know that. All they saw was a giant deformed looking bat and they ran away screaming. Until people actually began to believe that Sparda had been telling the truth and had proceeded to run the family out of town.

Yes, after the first ten times or so of this sort of behaviour, Sparda felt as though he had adjusted well. On that particular day though, this belief was to be scattered to pieces when he found himself in a tricky situation with two desperate-for-the-bog sons on his hands, whimpering and waddling behind him, their hands clamped to their groins and their eyes filling rapidly with tears. Finally, he told them what to do. To squat on the sidewalk, and do it there, then wipe their bums with grass. Vergil had been appalled at their father's suggestion, but Dante, always eager to play in the mud, was more than happy to follow Sparda's advice.

Vergil had watched as Dante crawled off into the bushes for privacy. When he had come back, Dante had been all smiles and laughs and hadn't seem at all unwell after the incident. And he looked comfortable, and _that_ was all important for a little boy who desperately needed the toilet and hadn't many options available. It was at that moment that Eva had driven past in the car, had somehow seen the guilty innocence in Sparda's eyes and had pulled the car over and had got out, demanding to know what was happening.

'I pooped!' yelled Dante. Eva had looked down at him absently and patted his head like he was a dog. Vergil had certainly thought and still did think that Dante acted like one most of the time.

'Very nice, dear,' Eva had said absent-mindedly.

'In the bushes!' Dante hollered. Sparda had been turning red and was looking distinctly uncomfortable as he tried to get Dante to shut up. Eva didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and Vergil had secretly wondered whether that was what teachers meant when they used the word blind.

'Wonderful, dear,' Eva replied, looking weary. 'Now Sparda, what are you doing? Are you ch-ch-cheating?' She blubbered, her voice turning dangerously wobbly. Vergil had felt alarmed; if Eva knew he had been cheating at his homework he would be in for it…Dante clung onto Eva's hand at that precise moment.

'Daddy told me to!' That caught Eva's attention.

'To do what?'

'Poo!'

'…?'

'In the bushes!'

'SPARDA!'

It had been two weeks until Sparda and Dante could sit down properly without wincing. Vergil had congratulated himself on not pooing in the bushes and since then had perfected the art of self preservation. And using the toilet.

Knowing that his own father had been unfamiliar with the concept of the toilet, it came as no surprise that Mundus was extremely shocked when he saw what one actually looked like. Mundus stared at it from several different angles, as many as he could, but he still couldn't make any sense out of it.

'What _is_ this thing?' Mundus demanded, eyeing it beadily.

'_That_ is a toilet.'

'And this acts as a portal to other realms?'

'Uh…not exactly…' Vergil said nervously. And he had thought that explaining what exactly a _television_ did was difficult!

'So what is it then?'

'Well…it's a device that all humans have in their homes,' Vergil began laboriously. Mundus gobbled with alarm.

'They _all_ have a portal to other realms in their houses? Isn't that dangerous? They could be streaming into here! And causing chaos and a mad panic! There could be tyrant hamsters running around the place! And truanting students escaped from schools!' Mundus clucked in despair. 'What are we going to do!' Vergil was silent. He was secretly impressed. Mundus had not known what a TV was, nor did he know exactly what a toilet was. But somehow, he still knew what a hamster was and what a truanting student or even a school was as well! But he had the sneaking suspicion that this was too good to be true.

'Master?'

'Yes Olive?' Mundus replied quickly. Vergil paused. It was a sad sad fact that Mundus still wasn't entirely sure what his name was, or whether he would ever be able to remember. There had only been one incident where Mundus had got the name right, but that wasn't exactly his finest hour.

"Vergil has failed" he had boomed. No…that certainly wasn't his finest hour. If Mundus had had to get his name right at least once, then why couldn't it have been when Mundus would say something like the following?

"Vergil is the best and I shall pass on the throne to him when I eventually die!" Still…he was lucky to have escaped with his balls, and that was all that mattered to him for now.

'How did you know that there are such things as schools or hamsters?' Vergil asked, trying to get his mind back on track. Mundus looked surprised.

'Such things really exist? I just read one of those idiotic comics that your brother dropped!'

Jughead…go figure. Ever since Dante had started reading Jughead comics at the age of twelve, he had started to collect them. Now he never went anywhere without one, and this was all too apparent when Vergil had been able to track him down just by following the trail of comic books that kept falling from Dante's clothing. It seemed he kept bumping into issues every so often, and some of the other demons had fallen foul of the comics. Nightmare in particular had started gurgling with laughter so badly that he turned into a puddle of sludge. It appeared as though Dante's stupidity was contagious. And that Nightmare was actually literate.

'Never mind, Master…' Vergil sighed wearily, wondering when his punishment would end. Never in all his life as an evil-person-who-wanted-to-help-his-master-take-over-the-world did he think that he would have to look after a turkey. He wished thanksgiving would hurry up and come.

At that point, Mundus gave an ungainly squawk and hid behind Vergil's leg. Vergil looked around, wondering what was trying to eat his master this time. He could see no shadows, he couldn't find any blades and Phantom certainly wasn't going to try and eat Mundus after the last painful incident where Vergil had flown to the rescue and had started spraying insect repellent all over the place before hitting his arse with a fly swat. As far as Vergil knew, Phantom was still sitting in the sewers and moping. Until a Jughead comic had somehow or another found it's way down there. Instead of moping, Phantom had read a page and had promptly turned into an antisocial crack addict. Which was really nothing new.

Vergil sighed before suddenly seeing what exactly had succeeded in scaring the prince of darkness this time. Griffon. Mundus had revived him from the dead in the hopes that they might be able to have bird to bird conversations. But even though Griffin had been a former obedient servant and pet, killing him off had been the last straw! The fact that while Mundus had killed him but had also brought him back hadn't actually crossed his mind. So it was that Mundus found himself being hunted down constantly by an enraged bird that was roughly the size of a full grown elephant. Griffon perched awkwardly on the toilet basin, forming a huge crack on it. Vergil yelped with horror; if Griffon broke it, then where was he meant to do his crap?

Luckily though, it didn't break, and the only toilet in the whole of the underworld was spared for now. Griffon looked at Vergil and then saw Mundus hiding behind him, as usual.

'Master Mundus!' Griffon croaked. Despite having decided that he was no longer Mundus' servant, it appeared as though old habits died hard and that he couldn't bring himself to refer to Mundus as just plain ol' Mundus. Or Barney. Griffon stretched out his wings, preparing to dive bomb at the turkey but promptly stopped as Vergil growled warningly.

'Don't even think about it,' he menaced. Griffon croaked slightly out of nerves. Vergil had once caught him trying to have an affair with a female barn owl while trying to strike an affair with a magpie. The results of his womanising forays had been a pitiful if hilarious sight. The owl had promptly taken a dump on his head and had regurgitated a hamster onto Griffon's talon, and the magpie had pecked at Griffon until he was unrecognisable. His head had become blue and black and Vergil had gleefully taken pictures of the sorry escapade. To this day, Griffon refused to attack or even come remotely close to Vergil, just in case he decided to reveal the truth about what Griffon had claimed to be his "birdly charms".

Griffon flew off, leaving Vergil to his previous task of explaining what a toilet was actually for.

'So what _is_ this toilet thing then if not a portal, Viola?'

'Only _this_ toilet is a portal,' Vergil tried to explain. 'It will take us to the human realm.'

'Yes yes, I _know_ that, Vivian, but what is a toilet _really _used for?' Vergil cursed inwardly. He had hoped that his master wouldn't have bothered himself with this detail. Mundus glared at him witheringly. 'Well?'

Vergil sighed wearily. 'Why does this matter, Master?' Mundus drew himself up to his full yet insignificant height.

'Because I _demanded_ to know and that is why it matters! Do you dare disobey me!' Vergil took one look at the mad wide angry eyes, the wobbling wattle, and the fat bulk of the turkey and decided that it was better to just explain rather than run the risk of having his eyes pecked out. Death by enraged turkeys was not really the way he planned on dying.

'A toilet is used by humans about three times a day.'

'Then it stops working?'

'Uh…no.'

'Oh. Pity. I wanted them to cry.'

'Right…erm…anyway…'

'How does it work?'

'A human sits on the toilet like _this_.' Vergil sat down on the toilet. 'Then when they've finished doing whatever they have to do, then they wipe themselves clean and flush the toilet, like _so_.' Vergil pulled the flush. Mundus gobbled avidly as he watched the toilet water swirl around.

'So what exactly do humans do on the toilet?'

'Erm…'

'Gertrude…' Mundus' tone was becoming dangerous. Vergil swallowed hard.

'They uh…they pee and crap in it.' There was a moment of nonplussed silence.

'They excrete in a bowl of water?'

'Yes.'

'While their pants are up? They sit over a bowl of water to soil their garments?' Mundus sounded disbelieving. Vergil looked at him wearily, wondering why he even bothered.

'No Master…they take their pants _off_ before they poo. And their underwear as well,' Vergil hastened to add. Mundus frowned at him.

'So why didn't _you_ do that when you were showing me how it works?'

Vergil chose not to answer. Mundus then decided to change the subject, deciding that the subject no longer interested him.

'So how do we get to the human realm?' Vergil smiled wickedly at that before picking up the turkey bodily and shoving him into the toilet basin. Then he smirked as he put down the lid, shutting Mundus in watery darkness. He paused to listen as Mundus squawked and gobbled madly before gleefully pulling the flush.

'No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH-GLUB!' Vergil lifted the lid and looked into the toilet before smiling. Revenge was hard to find, but it was sweet. Very very sweet.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Well, my internet is busted, my MSN doesn't work and I find myself uploading this from a cyber cafe in Debnhams. Lovely. Anyway, here's another chapter, and I'm sorry that things won't be updated for some time, not until everything gets fixed and sorted out. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chaoter, and I hope that you'll lend me your support! _**

_**Well, what else to say?**_

_**The demon shadow does not belong to me. But the Cuddles concept does (grin) Vergil and Mundus also don't belong to me.**_

**_Read, review, but most of all, enjoy!_**

**Chapter 3**

Mundus squawked as he was spat out into the sewers of the human world. He looked around in confusion before chirping happily. The sewers looked just like the sewers that his Beelzebub collection had lived in! He wondered if perhaps he could capture some more specimens from these human sewers in order to replenish his somewhat-totally-and-utterly-beaten-but-not-completely-defeated massacred collection. He happily ran off down the sewers before coming face to face with a huge gigantic rat eating something indescribable from a discarded burger wrapper.

The rat, according to legend, is a fierce creature and they are commonly accused of being disgustingly mean and horrible because of their ability of gnawing through fridges in order to get to the junk that fridges usually store inside. Like beer. Cheesecake and milk and bread and butter do not interest them. It is the _beer_ they're after. According to legend anyway.

In reality, the rat is a peaceful creature that only takes what it needs when it needs it. And when they bite, it's really just a healthy way of saying thank you. It's good manners. As for rats being smelly and undesirable, it is a common fact that is no secret that most perfumes have odour of rat as their secret ingredient. And toilet water, of course!

But Mundus, being Mundus and a complete and utter psychopath to boot had no inkling of either legend _or_ reality. So he decided to treat this unknown creature in the same manner in which he treated everything else.

'BEHOLD!' he tried to bellow. It came out as more of a shriek. The rat blinked and then offered him a portion of mouldy cheeseburger, seeing a fellow dirt bag in the sewers and believing him to be friendly. Mundus glared at the rat before nibbling tentatively at a corner of the furry green meat. He decided he liked the taste. And then he decided that he wanted more than the huge portion that the rat had generously given him. It was time to assert his authority.

'BEHOLD!' he gobbled again. The rat ignored him. 'I AM MUNDUS, THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS!' The fat little turkey spread out his wings in what he imagined to be a terrifying gesture. The rat looked up at him and blinked in curiosity. Mundus gobbled, believing himself to have sensed victory. 'YOU WILL BOW DOWN AND WORSHIP ME!' he squawked. The rat did no such thing, merely cleaning its whiskers and resuming its wonderful repast of green burger. Mundus narrowed his beady turkey eyes. 'FEAR ME!' he commanded imperiously. The rat squeaked in answer. Though Mundus didn't understand ratwanese, he took it to be an act of defiance. He shuffled forward threateningly, wings spread, wattle wobbling and prepared to do battle with the rat warrior of the kingdom of sewerdom.

Another important thing to remember about the reality of rats is that they do not approve of bullies or hillbillies that take their food. They also do not approve of tyrants, which explains the wars between rats and hamsters, those beings that generally enjoy using humans and exploit their skills at petting and generally pampering cute fuzzy little balls of fluff. Bloody tyrants…

---

Vergil sighed with happiness as he cuddled his pet shadow, Cuddles. Cuddles mewed before affectionately digging his claws into Vergil's leg. He looked down at him fondly.

'Awww…you're hungry! Okay, well I suppose we should go to the human realm and get you some more Whiskers cat food. And some catnip. And perhaps a squeaky little mouse too! How does that sound?' Cuddles mewed in contentment. Vergil grinned, looked around nervously before bundling Cuddles into his coat and running to the toilet. If anyone ever knew that tough-as-nails-and-frozen-meat-joints Vergil loved cats, he'd never hear the end of it. This was his darkest secret and he guarded it with a fervour that bordered on the edge of paranoia. God bless his mud caked boots.

Instead of flushing Cuddles down the toilet though, he opened a secret pathway to the proper portal entrance. He knew that perhaps he could have saved himself the embarrassment of explaining what a toilet was for and its uses but watching Mundus' face as he got flushed down the bog had been hysterical. He allowed himself to giggle girlishly as the image floated into his head again. Yet another dark secret, and the reason why he never laughed normally, and why his laugh had sounded so fake as Nelo Angelo. Cuddles loved his laugh though and mewed again with pleasure before sinking his claws into Vergil's shoulder.

Soon, they both came to the end of the secret pathway. The portal reached down below the ground, and through the U-bend of the loo so Vergil had no worries that Mundus had found himself lost. Vergil stepped through the portal and found himself standing directly in front of Tesco's, his favourite supermarket. Underneath him, ran the sewers, where Mundus had most probably ended up wondering around and around aimlessly. Not that he cared.

Vergil grabbed a trolley happily, walked through the automatic doors and started shopping. Cuddles wriggled uncomfortably as Vergil threw in all kinds of healthy food into his cart. Vergil frowned before smiling happily and ran down aisle after aisle of junk food. People stared in horror at the blue clad man as he raced through the aisle hugging packets of cookies to him jealously.

'MINE!' he yelled with delight. 'ALL MINE!' He cackled wildly before running towards the crisps and threw packet after packet of Walker's crisps into his trolley, then cakes, then Haribo sweets, then cinnamon swirls. At last he calmed down enough to eat a cinnamon swirl and shove the empty wrapper to the back of the shelf. Satisfied that he had committed his misdemeanour for the day, he reverted back to normal and glared at a little kid. At the sight of a spiky silver haired, blue coated man scowling at him terrifyingly with crumbs and sticky sugary cinnamon smeared all over his mouth and lips, the kid wet himself. Vergil curled his lip in disgust before walking away, with his sugary cinnamon lipstick still intact. Cuddles mewed piteously from inside his coat.

'I know, Cuddles,' he murmured. 'Not long now, Cuddles, but I have to eat too!' Cuddles yowled in answer. Vergil looked around guiltily before grabbing a ready cooked chicken. 'There!' he exclaimed cheerfully. Two little old ladies watched with horrified fascination as Vergil continued talking to his shirt. Vergil caught them staring and responded by cheerfully giving them the finger. They gasped and suddenly turned VERY nasty.

'Bugger off!' snarled one.

'Asshole!' yelled the other. Vergil stared in shock before running away. The ladies hopped onto their zimoframes and charged after him, swinging their handbags wildly. Cuddles snarled, leapt out from under Vergil's coat and impaled one of them with a spike. The other looked at him owlishly before kicking the demon cat away.

'Mangy fleabag…' she grumbled. 'Get up, Agnes! You're not dead!'

'YOU'RE AGNES!' yelled the bleeding woman. 'And yes I am dead!' Gertrude complained.

'No you're not! Up you get!' Agnes suddenly pegged it after that, leaving poor old Gertrude bleeding quite alone on the floor. But Vergil was annoyed beyond measure. Agnes had committed the ultimate crime.

'Cuddles!' he bellowed. Cuddles licked his paws daintily and mewed. Vergil ignored the fact that his cat was completely healthy and went on a mad rampage. Cat food and dog toys and little children and sweeties and little old ladies and Cuddles went flying. Cashiers and desks and members of staff were completely obliterated, along with toy cars. At last, Vergil calmed down and found that his trolley was intact. He smiled and then continued to shop as though nothing had happened, Cuddles trotting at his heels arrogantly.

'That's my pet,' he thought smugly to himself. 'No one terrorizes my pet but ME!' Vergil picked up a can of Whiskers at that point and held it out to him. The demon cat sniffed it appreciatively and mewled loudly. Vergil threw in fifty cans, squishing the fruit in his trolley and crushing the packet of crisps in the process. Then he picked up a cooking book and smiled. Jamie Oliver. Satisfied, he walked out of the supermarket without paying (there was no one to mind the tills) and sighed with contentment.

'Now…' he said, pausing. 'Now to find Mundus!'

---

Mundus lay defeated, with his portion of cheeseburger finished and a distended stomach to nurse. He groaned before deciding that a drink of water would do him some good. In Sewerdom, there seemed to be plenty of water around. Without further ado, he started drinking thirstily from the water and promptly felt worse. He moaned before waddling unsteadily about, beginning to feel frightened. Being a turkey was a terrible thing! And he would be sure to wish it upon Dante and that damned rat. He decided that because Dante had been able to kick his ass, and now the rat had too, that the rat must be a descendant of Sparda. He pulled a face at the thought. Sparda had certainly got around before he died. Was there anything that he _wouldn't_ do?

Then Mundus decided that when he got a better body, he'd make an army of killer rats. They'd be able to do the job wonderfully. Little demons, he thought grudgingly. He continued to wonder on through the sewers but then came face to face with another rat. He whimpered and then ran back squawking before crashing into something solid.

'HEADS WILL RRRRRRRRRRROLLLLLL FOR THIS!' He shouted as he lay on his stomach flailing about uselessly, his wings flapping clumsily. Vergil rolled his eyes and picked him up. Mundus sniffled before snapping at his hands with his beak bad temperedly. 'Where have you been, Margaret!' he yelled. Vergil shrugged.

'Do you wish to return to your realm, Master?' he asked hopefully. Mundus eyed him beadily.

'If it involves being flushed again through that excreting machine, then no. I wish to see what a TV is and how it works!' he said, puffing out his chest arrogantly. Vergil sighed wearily and Cuddles' ears drooped.

'Fine…' Vergil whispered in defeat. 'Then come on…we'll have to find a place to live for a while…'


	4. Chapter 4

**_Sorry it has been so long! I finally have a new laptop, I'm into college, or university as we call it over here, and I'm struggling to understand the procedures here. And the internet system. And histoiry. And law...and...and bony people...O.O_**

**__**

**_ANYWAY, excuse the bloody typos, the keyboard still needs somke getting used to!#_**

**__**

**_Thanks for the support, you've all been great and I can rest assure you that while I might take a while, I'm never going to give up ,my fanfic writing. I'd also like to make an announcement._**

**__**

**_I'm going to try and write a noverl./_**

**__**

**_But don't worry. Because fanficcing is still a high priority for me._**

**__**

**_Keep up the support, you all know I love the reviews! Until next time! Lend me your support._**

**Chapter 4**

If there was one thing that Dante hated, it was his driving instructor. His name? Andy Dong. Despite the hilarities of his name, Andy hated anything to do with humour, but poor Dante just couldn't stay away from his miserably cheesy one liners. He sincerely thought he was funny, that people loved to laugh with him. He was sadly mistaken, people laughed _at _him, not with him. And it seemed as though the whole world and their auntie knew this with the exception of the red-clad demon hunter.

So it was that Dante found himself sitting miserably in his office, watching the clock tick and watching as the time slid closer and closer to the time for his lesson. One might wonder why Dante, the driver of the motorcycle was even taking lessons again. Well, it was precisely because he was the driver of the motorcycle. He had a knack for destroying them all, even the ones that didn't belong to him. Even to this day, Lady had tried to chase him down, constantly begging for her cycle to be replaced. Dante had refused to listen, mainly because he could think of better uses for his money. Like on prostitutes and hamster food.

Speaking of which...

He looked lovingly towards his pride and joy, his hamster, known to all and sundry as Bobo-stinky-winky-tiddly-toddly-poo. His real name however, was Zone. Not that anyone knew, or remotely cared. Dante watched as Zone continued to participate in his favourite activity, which seemed to consist ferrying odd balls of something or another around his cage, into his hamster house and then making funny noises.

If Dante had known that Zone was secretly planning to destroy the world by using an extremely destructive laser and then becoming Earth's ruler, Dante might have thought differently about his beloved pet.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Dante choked on the bottle cap of his beer. The thought that perhaps it would be best if Dante didn't drink before driving never occured to him this day. Or the day before. Or the day before that. In fact, Dante had never seen any of the adverts depicting the dangers of drinking and driving. And he probably never would. Dante hadn't paid for a TV lisence as of yet, and his television set merely sat in the corner of his office, acting like a truly horrendous decoration piece; not so long ago, Dante had thrown his sword through it in an attempt to make it work. Dante had then stared at his destroyed TV set and then labeled it as art. And there it had stayed, acting as a sad reminder that Dante would never find the energy to take out the trash.

The doorbell rang again and Dante got up, staring at it wildly, praying that Andy would just go away after a little while. He sat down again before fidgeting nervously. The doorbell rang again. Dante's underarms began to itch. The doorbell rang again and Dante found himself breaking out into a sweat. The doorbell rang again and Dante swallowed hard, nerously, whimpering. Zone twitched his whiskers curiously before staring at him. Dante glared at him warningly.

'Don't give me away, Bobo! Or else your hamster wheel gets it!' Dante threatened in a low voice. Zone twitched his whiskers again before scuttling back inside his hamster house. He had better things to do. Like making hamster sized smart bombs. Dante remained frozen in place, staring at the front door avidly, as though afraid it would suddenly grow teeth and try and eat him. Which it once tried to do after an infestant decided to try and have it's way with the door, mistaking the splintered decayed piece of wood for a demon. To cut a very long and perverted story

short, the infestant was less than pleased when the door failed to respond to it's amorous advances and decided to possess it after trying to rape it and then proceeded to try and eat Dante.

The doorbell remained quiet for a further five minutes, but Dante knew better than to relax his guard. His pride suddenly surfaced and he growled, grabbing his sword.

'Come on, punk!' he threatened the door under his breath. 'Let's see what you got, punk! Yeah punk! Just bring it!' The door made no noise, and the doorbell remained silent. Dante, stung into retaliation by the door's obstinate silence screamed before throwing himself at the door, yelping with surprise as the door collapsed under his weight and sent him sprawling into the ground at Andy Dong's feet.

Andy had been teaching Dante how to drive and not destroy things for six months now. And every time he tried to collect Dante for his driving lesson, Dante had always greeted him in a cack-handed manner such as this. He was no longer surprised. He checked his watch. Dante had held out for a full two minutes this time.

'Good morning!' he said cheerfully. Dante picked himself up from the ground and grumbled something under his breath. Andy smiled at him happily. 'How are you today?'

'Rummph...grumph..retchin frechin mugunama...' Dante muttered unintelligably. Andy took this to mean "Ruumph...retching from fetching my mother." Andy smiled widely, determined to try and be as professional as he could.

'Oh is that so, Mr. Dante? How _is _your mother?' Little did Andy know, that this was precisely the wrong thing to say. Dante stared at him and muttered several curse words to himself before screaming and launching himself at the driving instructor. Andy neatly side-stepped to one side and opened the driver's seat, slamming the door onto him and fastening his seatbelt as Dante tried desperately to scramble away. 'Now now Mr. Dante,' he whispered soothingly. 'We go through this whole rigamarole every time we have to have a lesson together. I was rather hoping that we wouldn't have to this time!' Dante had fallen silent, the way he always did when Andy said this sentence. Little did poor Andy know was that it wasn't because Dante had actually listened and obeyed him. It was, in actual fact, because Dante didn't know what a rigamarole was, and was trying to figure out the meaning of the word.

Andy looked towards Dante speculatively before finally believing that his pupil had finally calmed down. He sat down in the passenger's seat and then grinned at Dante. 'Okay then, now, what's the routine you always have to do before starting off?'

'Check for demons, run them over, and then dance on their grave!' Dante yelled happily. Andy looked at him, like how one might look at a rotting potato. With disgust.

'No, Dante,' he said slowly, patronisingly, as though he was talking to a toddler. 'The _other_ routine.'

'Oh, that shitty boring thing. Check your seat. Check the doors. Check the mirrors, check the seatbelt, check your blindspots.'

'Very _good_ Dante!' Andy said, smiling widely, rewarding Dante with a sticky lollypop that he had been given by an overenthusiastic teenarger some time ago. Like six years ago, to be precise. Dante squealed with happiness before trying to eat it with the wrapper still on. Andy sighed softly. 'Okay, Dante. So why don't we do all those things you just talked about?' he said patiently. Dante immediately began sniffing the

seat and stuck his head out the door to sniff at the mirrors. Andy stared at him, beginning to feel more and more annoyed.

'What the hell are you doing?' he snapped. Dante looked at him, thought about the question before grinning.

'Checking the mirrors!' Andy paused, bit his lip and then decided to say nothing. He had been next to wierder students. Like the girl who insisted on throwing a frozen sausage at anybody who was riding a bicycle. If Dante felt he had to sniff the mirrors to check that he could see through him, then fine. Little did poor Andy know was that Dante was sniffing the mirrors for demons.

Eventually, Dante was satisfied that the car had not been pissed upon by devils and started the car, promptly snarling as the engine roared to life. Andy massaged his temples and sighed softly to himself. Why did he always get the wierdos? And Dante was one of the worst wierdos he had met too. Dante continued to snarl at the car engine before finally calming down, clearing his throat sheepishly and then squaring his shoulders, as though he was about to do battle with a huge tyrant or something.

'Right, Dante...' Andy began. 'Now, to pull away from here.' Andy sat back after giving his eight word speech. He closed his eyes and sighed to himself, wishing that he had brought himself a good book. Because didn't Dante always take half an hour to remember how to put the car into gear? And then didn't it always take the demon hunter another forty minutes to actually pull away from his drive? But each and ever lesson, Andy had forgotten his books and his magazines, as well as his PSP and his I-Pod and all other accesories he needed in order to fight off bordom. Dante gave a sudden whoop of triumph and the car suddenly lurched forward, straight into the patch of an oncoming car. Andy screamedand wet his pants, dante laughed with wild delight as he sped towards the approaching car before checking to see that Andy had his eyes closed with fear and promptly blew up the car using his Ifrit gauntlets.

'ROAR!' yelled the gauntlets.

'YAY!' squealed Dante.

'BLURGH!' groaned Andy, who had just leaned his head out of the window to puke. Dante looked at him almost sympathetically before scowling.

'Pansy!' he bellowed. Andy just turned even more green and started to cry. The rest of the lesson went downhill after that, ending dramatically as Dante saw a hedgehog walking along the pavement as calm as you please and tried to run it over, thinking it was an evil demon. To cut a long and embarassing story short, Dante ended up driving the car up over the curb, onto the pavement, running over the hedgehog and bursting his front tire in the process. Andy could have wept with anger and hurt. The hedgehog had been a constant visitor into his garden and had kept his little daughter happy for ages. Now there was no more hedgehog, but more importantly, no spare tire to undo the mess that Dante had seemingly-intentionally gotten themselves into.

As Andy got out of the car to try and unscrew the burst tire from the car, it began to rain. Andy sneezed and looked miserably at Dante, who merely sat there and watched him, looking vaguely interested by the whole procedure. But while Dante stayed high and dry, Andy got soaked through by freezing rain water. Dante smiled happily before suddenly getting out of the car and ambling up to him amicably.

'How bad is it?' he asked cheerfully. Andy looked up at him woefully.

'Very bad.'

'What are you doing?'

'I'm going to undo the tire, and then I'm going to call someone to help us.'

'Oh, okay.' Dante watched as Andy struggled futily with the tire-jack. Then he

noticed the people who were driving past them and staring at them as they went. Dante then grinned and struck a pose, always happy to oblige. Andy stared up at him balefully.

'What are you doing?'

'Posing?'

'It would be nice if you coiuld give me a bit of help.'

'No. I'd rather just stand here and look pretty!' Dante sang at him. Andy grumbled some curse-words before he resumed trying to work the jack. Dante watched him for a little while longer before getting bored.

'Okay. I'm bored. And hungry.'

'Just wait, I'm nearly done!' yelled poor Andy.

'Okay...' Dante waited for about two seconds. 'Done yet?'

'No.'

'Now?'

'No.'

'How about now?'

'NO!' Dante pouted, fidgeted, scratched his hair, scratched his bum, counted his teeth with his tongue before sighing heavily.

'This is boring. I'm going to go now. Bye. Thanks for the lesson!' And with that, Dante walked off, back to his house, which was only five minutes away. He smiled with satisfaction. Yes, all in all, he felt that his driving lesson had gone very well indeed!


	5. Chapter 5

**_Whew! Sorry it took so long getting out this chapter, and I'm sorry that a lot of you people began to think that this fic was dead! Seriously, it isn't. It's still here, just going very slowly because of a lack of the funny thoughts. _**

**_Anyway, thanks everyone so far, for all of the support you guys have shown me._**

**_I'd just like to say that this chapter is a very very special one to me, because it actually celebrates the birthday of my first ever OC, Arson. On the 8th of February, he turned five years old. I've had this character for five years and he still isn't exactly dead. So this one is for him._**

**_Chapter 5 for a 5 year old character._**

**_Don't worry though, because after this chapter, Arson won't be reappearing in the fic again. (grins) _**

**_Anyway, read, review and most of all ENJOY!_**

**Chapter 5**

Dante sat at the kitchen table, irritated and annoyed. His driving lesson that morning had gone even worse than the last, this time he had run over a fox, which had promptly flown away in what looked to be a spaceship whilst screaming obscenities and crying out for someone called "Falco" to help him. He looked towards the date and then frowned when he realized that the day on the calendar had been circled. In tiny miniscule handwriting that didn't belong to him, it said "Birthday".

Dante sat back in his chair and sipped at his morning beer, confused. Who's birthday was it again? It certainly wasn't the rats that lived under the kitchen, their babies had been born only yesterday so it couldn't be that at all. Nor was it Trish's birthday because of the fact that Trish didn't have one, what with her being "created" and not "born".

Besides, her creation day was hilariously enough on the 4th July.

Dante didn't know why exactly this was hilarious but he decided that it was and so it had become that way. For ever.

He took another large gulp of his beer (he had run out of coffee) and tried to rack his brains for some reason for there being a birthday. Sadly he could only come up with blanks. He grinned at that thought. Thank God he'd seemed to be firing blanks with all the women he had slept with. Not a single one had become pregnant by him. Though it really should have happened by now; Sod's law stated that it just should have happened.

Suddenly, Dante was no longer pleased about his childless state and soon found himself becoming increasingly worried. What if there were _never_ going to be little Dantes running around rampant and chasing women and breaking hearts left, right and centre? What if he would never ever be able to teach them all he knew about how to dodge older protective brothers and mad fathers who thought they were colonels and called woods "jungles"?

He glared at the calendar again, balefully. Bloody useless waste of space. And paper. And money. In a rage, Dante hit the calendar off its peg and blinked as he was confronted by a rather large hole in the wall. He peered into it and looked about guiltily, remembering suddenly how it had come to appear there in the first place.

Not long after he had stuck his sword through the television set, he had been forced to go into the kitchen to eat out of the pure need for comfort. There had been no pizza left in the fridge, nor had there been any chocolate. But then he had seen it; a single can of the most glorious, the most perfect and mouth-watering snack of all time. Creamy and oozing with pure comforting goodness, it called out to him in a way that was completely irresistible. The green border screamed out to him like a beacon, and the glimmering picture of the wonderful treat inside whispered sweet nothings in his ear, making his stomach growl impatiently.

His stomach had ached maddeningly, his whole body had craved it and his entire consciousness (which is, even to this day, about the size of an extremely small and heavily wrinkled pea) told him that if he ate this wonderful meal, all of his troubles would go away. And so, with all the madness and savagery of a dieting woman with no will power whatsoever, Dante had reached for the can and had energetically set about trying to find a clean bowl to heat the contents up in. But then he was rudely prevented from doing anything more to further his cause.

Yes, a terrible thing had happened at that point.

The top of the tin had not possessed the wonderfully intricate mechanism known as the "pull ring opener thingi". Yes, that's right. The tin had been sitting on that shelf for only Sparda knew how long and as such had been an old fashioned tin, one that required a can opener.

Dante had stared at the daunting barrier for a good while before swallowing his nerves and narrowing his eyes, deciding to treat this new development in exactly the same way like how he would treat an enemy demon. Not that he had really met any _friendly_ demons but _still_. He had given vent to a feral growl, eyeing the can balefully as he rummaged about in the drawers for a can-opener. He had found something and had stared at it, fear beginning to shine in his eyes again. He had been forced to wonder as he stared at the implement in his hand. Was _that_ a can-opener? He hadn't been sure but his stomach had told him that he had to _try_ at least. Time had been of the essence and he had felt as though he was going to faint from lack of comfort eating.

So he had grabbed the odd implement and smacked the tin about with it, doing nothing but denting it and beating it out of shape. But the tin was an obstinate little shit and had refused to spill its goods. In a fit of blind rage, Dante had thrown the implement out of the window, smashing the glass in the process and decapitating a magpie that had been about to devour an earthworm known by all and sundry as Jim.

Then Dante had screamed, still pissed off with life in general and had thrown the can at the wall, the anger quickly being replaced with horror as the tin formed a hole. Dante had peered down said hole and had been left with no choice but to lament over the loss of his only remaining tin of macaroni cheese.

Needless to say, the mailman had been more than confused when he saw the beheaded bird in the garden the next morning, the head lying next to a bloodied spatula. Wisely, the poor man had decided to say nothing about it, merely telling himself that he was simply seeing things.

It had obviously not been the case of him "seeing things" for five minutes later, he had been run over by a pissed off woman on a bike who had screamed something about a damaged cycle and had tossed a calendar (it was the closest thing she had been able to find) through Dante's broken window.

Dante stared at the circled date again.

…

Was it _Lady's_ birthday?

…

Did she even _have_ a birthday?

…

Well, if she didn't have a name then it was logical to think that she didn't have a birthday either!

Pleased with his brilliant deduction, Dante turned back to the matter at hand and glared at the circled date as he covertly replaced his calendar over the massive hole in the wall. He sighed and chewed at his lip, suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Then he frowned and sniffed, getting a whiff of something that was unfamiliar yet smelt altogether delicious anyway. He sniffed again before hunting about curiously for the source of the wonderful smell. Much to his confusion, it soon transpired that the aroma was actually coming from _under_ the stove. He got down on his hands and knees and peered down and through, into the hole under the cooker. He scowled as he truly noticed it.

It seemed as though there were a whole heap of holes in his home that he had to get fixed, like the one in his bathroom floor when he had panicked and had seen a huge spider. He had tried to stomp on it, but the floorboards had been weak and his foot had crashed right through it. There was also the hole in his bedroom ceiling where his head had gone through when he had been jumping on the bed on the day before in a fit of hyper-activity. That also had to be fixed. The hole, not his hyper-activity.

But what he saw down this particular hole at first amused him, and then, later on, disturbed him. Badly.

At first, he giggled, yes giggled, when he saw one of his friendly kitchen rats doing what looked to be like some kind of exotic rat dance of doom. Then he realized that the smell was coming from the rat itself. Dante stared in horror before fishing out the "dancing" rat, only to find that its dancing was actually twitching and that its body was incredibly hot, which in turn caused Ifrit to roar happily and excitedly.

The rat had been totally charred to a crisp, due to the fact that it had chewed through the wires of the electric stove. Dante didn't actually care too much about the stove; he couldn't really use it anyway because there were too many scary buttons and dials for him to turn and twist.

No, the reason why Dante had cause to worry was because of the fact that the slayer had briefly wondered whether barbequed rat would taste as good as it smelt. He put the rat in the bin and washed his hands, remembering his mother's approach to manners and cleanliness. Because let's face it, for all his bad boy attitude and his bad boy act that he put on around women, Dante, the son of Sparda, was really a hopeless Mommy's boy.

He was briefly distracted by the sound of a rather depraved chattering noise. He glared towards Zone's cage.

'Quiet! It's not funny! And it's not nice to laugh at the death of one of your cousins, Bobo!' The insane and somewhat twisted hamster fell silent. Not because he was feeling particularly repentant, but because he was trying to give Dante the silent treatment. Rats? Cousins? Those lowly things? Like hell!

An intelligent man might have been able to recognize that the charred rat was actually Sparda's way of trying to warn his son, trying to give him a clue of what was about to come. The more melodramatic man might have even gone so far as to say that it was an omen. But sadly, Dante was neither type of man and Sparda could only stare down at him, shake his head pityingly before deciding that maybe he should just stick to being truly dead and ignore his moron of a son from then on.

Therefore, it came to no surprise to the legendary demon to see the look of intense shock and fear that came onto Dante's face as the doorbell rang. Zone looked up at Dante and then ran on his hamster wheel, for no other reason other than that he was bored. Dante immediately began to hiss and snarl and make other various irritating sounds before attacking the door, knocking it to the ground as it gave way under his weight.

What he saw struck him with delight and fear.

'MOMMY!' he bellowed and threw herself upon a blonde haired woman who had all the decency of a low rent hooker. Yes, it was none other than Rachel Greene. Or so Dante thought as some facts began to make themselves known in his mind. Rachel from Friends did not dress cheaply, nor did she have azure eyes. Nor was Rachel Greene his mother. How could he have forgotten? …But then again, his _mother_ hadn't dressed like a whore either.

'Oh…Hoebag,' he said, by way of greeting. Trish glared at him and stepped inside, dragging someone else inside with her. Dante peered at the newcomer and frowned. The kid seemed somewhat familiar yet at the same time he couldn't recognize him.

'Who are you, Dinkus?' he snarled. The boy looked at him and then started to snivel, his bottom lip wobbling.

'You don't remember me? At all?'

'Nope. But you're wearing green so I'll call you Booger!' The boy, or rather, teen did not seem impressed by this in the slightest.

'I'm not called Booger!'

'Yes you are!'

'No I'm not!' the teen cried again, looking close to tears. Dante laughed nastily and poked him in the ribs.

'Yes you are! You're stupid!'

'No I'm not…' he bawled. 'I'm not stupid…' he whimpered. There was a pause where Dante, being the immature demon spawn that he is decided to blow a raspberry in the kid's general direction. This stung the teen into retaliation. 'I'm not stupid! I'm not stupid! I'M NOT STUPID!'

And with that, he burped. Now, this wouldn't really have been much cause for concern had it not been for the fact that when the kid gave vent to this somewhat distasteful and unsavoury sound, he also let out a spark of flame too. Which landed on a chair. That was made of wood. The net result of this small mishap was that Dante no longer had a fourth wall to his seating area, but he had gained a wonderful alternative to using a stove. Setting fire to things. Less hassle, less work and most importantly, no dials involved at all! Sure there would be damn plenty of mess but it wasn't as if anyone was going to actually _notice_ the addition to the garbage that was already strewn all over the agency.

But these thoughts were not important right now, Dante told himself. They would have to be filed away so then he could consider them later. The idea that he might actually _forget_ his wonderful plan never occurred to him. It appeared as though Sparda's brain had gone to Vergil, but his haphazard cooking skills had been inherited by Dante. As well as his mother's god awful memory.

Dante glared down at the kid and puffed himself up, looking for all the world like a snowy owl that had had a large red-hot poker shoved up its ass.

'Whoooo…Aaaare…Yooooou?' he asked, in a passable imitation of the crazy and somewhat scary caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. The kid blinked up at him owlishly before gasping as Trish suddenly took out a special treat from her pocket. It was nothing other than a strawberry. Dante caught sight of the delectable red and seedy fruit and knew immediately that something bad would happen if Trish decided for some bizarre reason to feed it to the teen. But the boy seemed suddenly to notice Dante's worried expression and turned his somewhat crappy and short-lived attention onto him again, his eyes filling up with tears.

'You really can't remember me?'

'No.'

'I AM THE GREAT MOOTAH!' The teen glared at him, brown eyes bulging, making him look like a psychopathic escaped convict. Trish rolled her eyes and decided to get her head out of her ass and explain things properly, in a way that the idiot son of Sparda would be able to comprehend.

'In other words, he's Arson. Your grandson.'

Dante blinked in astonishment and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

'Grandson? I'm not _that_ old!' Then he spluttered as a second and more important thought made it's slow demented way into the pathway to his brain. It took a while, about five minutes, before the thought rang the doorbell of his brain and went inside.

He stared towards the fire-breathing teen and smiled widely at him.

'Grandson?' he repeated with a kind of manic zeal. 'Grandson? You're related to me? Trish sighed and was about to explain when Dante started cackling. 'You mean my faithful balls are still working and aren't firing blanks? They're still functioning? They're still doing their job?'

'_Yes_!' Trish replied in exasperation. Arson was beginning to look terrified and if Trish was going to be truthful about it, she would have had to admit that she couldn't really blame the teen for being scared witless. Dante stared at the both of them uncertainly.

'I'm really not firing blanks?'

'No!' Trish hissed, her eyes flashing amber. 'You're not!' Dante looked joyfully towards Arson and then gathered him up to his body, screaming into his ears.

'FRUIT OF MY LOINS! SEE HOW I GREET YOU!' Arson shrieked and kicked out in protest, looking horrified. Trish whapped Dante on the back of the head with a rolled up newspaper and glared at him frostily.

'The only blanks you've been firing are blank _cheques_! To repair companies!'

'What?' Dante gasped theatrically. 'But I've been giving them cheques all this time!'

'Apparently not.'

'B-but…'

'I suggest you take it up with the bank,' Trish growled. Dante quailed; it was clear that Trish was suffering from PMS. He wondered briefly which evil he should try and face, the bank or Trish. Then he had a brilliant idea.

'I'm scared! Come with?'

'FINE!' Trish roared. And with that, the two grabbed their coats and left, on their way to fight the most dangerous demons of all. Accountants.

Sadly, they had forgotten a very very important thing. They had left Arson. In the building. Alone. And they had both completely forgotten that it was the fiery teenager that had been the cause of the formidable circled date on the calendar.

Arson sighed heavily before peering about, wondering what he could do to amuse himself. Then he saw it. He smiled gleefully and crept towards it, this wonderful, discarded, gorgeous heavenly object that had been left to lie on the dust-covered floor. He grinned and picked up the thankfully undamaged strawberry and cuddled it carefully against his chest. When he was satisfied that the strawberry knew that it was loved, he immediately popped it into his mouth without preamble.

He giggled and danced about madly with all the grace of a rhinoceros in heat. In other words, with no grace at all.

He gasped as he was suddenly interrupted by a strange whirring sound. He looked about excitedly and then cooed, his eyes turning wide as he saw the source of the sound. He crawled towards the hamster cage and peered in, only to see Zone staring back at him fearlessly, with something akin to a confused glare on his rodent face. Arson blinked and then picked up the unsuspecting hamster.

'Hello!' he bellowed, deafening the poor hamster. Zone wriggled about, desperate to escape, but it was no good. Arson had him held tightly in his fist. Arson brought him to his face and started cuddling happily. 'You're a good little rat, aren't you? Yes you are! YES YOU ARE!' Then he caught a whiff of the hamster. The teen wrinkled his nose and looked faintly puzzled. Whatever the hamster smelt of, it certainly wasn't strawberries. He took another good sniff and then pulled a face.

Zone wasn't exactly pleased with his smell. Dante didn't take very good care of anything. His agency was a mess, the food in his fridge was non-existent and the floors of all the rooms in the building could barely be seen. In short, everything was a shambles and it had been that way for one hell of a long time, much to Zone's irritation. At first, it hadn't really bothered him that much. But the days went past and the bedding in his cage grew steadily filthier and filthier, much to the hamster's distress.

After all, he'd been hoping to do away with the awful stereotype that all mad tyrannical geniuses had poor personal hygiene.

Yet Dante's stupidity had thwarted the cunning and as a result, Zone stank to the high heavens. Yes, even in death, Eva's sense of smell had been offended. Badly.

Arson himself was quite intelligent but now that he had ingested a strawberry this intelligence had melted away, leaving nothing but a hapless little pup of an angel-devil hybrid. Yet even in this somewhat dysfunctional state, Arson was still able to smell Zone.

He too, like Eva, was offended.

'You need a washie, Mr. Hammie!' he told the hamster, trying to be nice about it. 'You need a washie, Mr. Hammie. Because you _STINK_! You smell really bad and it's making me not like you and I do want to like you. But you're disgusting and gross and you smell of fart and sawdust!'

Zone, unsurprisingly, was less than pleased at this statement. Arson blithely smiled before walking towards the kitchen, grinning as his gaze settled on the object he had been searching for. Though Arson was drugged and was high on strawberries, he was still surprised at the fact that Dante had actually gone out of the way to buy one of these rare and elusive items.

A washing machine.

Zone saw the look of purpose in Arson's eyes and squealed with terror. Arson mistook the hamster's horrified antics for excitement and beamed down at him.

'Yes, that's right Mr. Hammie! You're finally getting a bath!' Zone started struggling and started trying to bite him. Bit Arson only had to tighten his fist slightly to crush his futile resistance. He also nearly crushed the hamster too for that matter. He started walking towards the sparkling washing machine and then grinned as he saw that the drum was empty.

Without any thought (mostly because he was more or less incapable of any rational thought) he shoved the hamster inside. Zone turned immediately and made a bee-line for the exit, claws scrabbling wildly against the metal surface of the drum as he tried to make his great escape. His heart hammered under his fur as he got closer, closer and closer still to the circle-shaped doorway. Then he crashed into the glass with a loud, pained squeak. Damned clear plastic doors for tricking him!

Arson watched him happily before getting up from his crouching position. Zone crouched as close to the door as he could and peered up at the deranged hybrid warily and nervously, wondering what the hell else was going to happen. He had managed to piece up enough information regarding washing machines to know that the hybrid had to press buttons in a certain order to actually get the machine to start working. Yes, sometimes it really was a blessing that Dante used instruction manuals and shredded them up to serve as Zone's bedding. It was just that he didn't take out the OLD bedding.

The hamster grinned inwardly to himself, sincerely doubting that Arson had any idea how to operate the machine. And even if the hybrid didn't know, then there was no actual way of him finding out due to the manual having already been shredded and shat upon.

Sadly what Zone didn't know was that Arson could read. Another thing that the hamster didn't know was that the buttons on the washing machine were self-explanatory if you were a human and had an IQ above Dante's. Which explained why Zone, for all his cunning and intelligence was unable to figure out what the buttons did.

Thus it comes as no surprise when one is told that the tan coloured hamster nearly jumped out of his skin when the washing machine gave vent to a groaning rumble. Zone's eyes widened as he could hear a trickling sound echoing from all around him.

And then he realized that his paws were wet…

Yes, it really did appear as though the tyrant hamster was certainly getting the wash of his life…


	6. Chapter 6

_Whee! Randomness is here! Randomness is coming! _

_Just a reminder that this fic is stupid. It is meant to be. But I get a hell of a lot of fun from writing random stupidity. Everyone here is OOC. _

_And I'm well aware that Eva is not thick. I'm well aware that no one in the game is thick. But since this is extremely OOC, well…they are NOW! AHAHAHA! (coughs)_

_So, here we go again, with more randomness, with more Vergil, with more Mundus and how can we forget Cuddles?_

_Also, this is the first two-part chapter in this fic. Hoorah!_

_Read, Review but most of all ENJOY!_

**Chapter 6**

And now, after two chapters that have been dedicated to a certain somewhat incapable red-clad hero who runs rampant in all games and bellows "Whoo-hoo-hoo-HOOOOO!", we turn back to poke some not so gentle fun at another somewhat bad-ass, somewhat clichéd but an all around incapable blue-clad antihero, who happens to have a hidden, secret, obsessive love for ribbons. Indeed, sometimes he will whip out Yamoto and "train" and "practise his swordsmanship" when in actual fact, he definitely does nothing of the sort and simply watches the sash float and twirl in the wind. This obsessive love is rivalled only by his love for cats.

And so, with perhaps no degree of surprise based on the content of previous chapters, we find ourselves watching the comings and wailings of one Vergil, who can be seen to be often whimpering and sobbing unashamedly while in the company of his pet demonic cat and a very fat turkey, who happens to be none other than the one and only Mundus. And it is also at this point where the "I" and "we" is suddenly eaten up by a raging rhinoceros, leaving the reader to watch as events unfold for themselves.

For once, in England, it was a brilliantly sunny day and some of the people of England (or the people in a small village of England) had automatically decided to celebrate by running out of the house while wearing no clothes or sun-cream in a bid to try and kill themselves.

Vergil couldn't help but smile at their antics, it was so quintessentially English to be quite frank about it. After all, it is a somewhat sad fact of life that the English can never do anything in a somewhat straight-forward manner; they simply _love_ to make lives difficult for themselves and simply enjoy never taking the easy way out of whatever problem they create for themselves. And all the time while they would do this, they would take part in the most favoured national English past-time. Moaning.

"Oh no! I'm not tanning very quickly, am I?" Which meant, "Why aren't I dying faster?". Still, as said before, Vergil couldn't help but smile, and it gave him the appearance of a very demented, very drugged bottle of cider.

Mundus, however, was completely unimpressed, more concerned by the fact that Cuddles the demonic cat was staring at him hungrily. He glared up at Vergil and gobbled noisily, trying to get his servant's attention away from a particularly well-endowed and particularly naked female.

'Look here, you!' He demanded, trying to sound authoritative. Vergil didn't look away for an instant, staring at the woman pointedly, his mouth hanging open. Mundus sighed and glared at Cuddles before marching up to him, puffing his chest out threateningly. Sadly, this did nothing to scare off the cat; it just made him look even more fatter and therefore, even more tasty to a deranged demonic kitten. Cuddles mewed softly and started stalking towards the unsuspecting turkey, unsheathing his claws, his eyes flaring red. Mundus huffed and glared at him.

'Oh! How VERY original, you stupid cat! Do not forget that I MADE YOU!' he boomed, flapping his wings menacingly.

'Aw! What a cute little chicken!' came a sudden voice from behind him. Mundus pulled a face to himself, hating the word "cute". It was a horrible swear word, one that he had been brought up never to use by his mother, curse her wonderful soul. He turned around, about to give the newcomer a piece of his mind when he stopped still.

Before him, stood a distinguished, elderly man with white hair, moustache, and goatee who wore white suits and black ties, posed with a cane, and affected the title of "Colonel". Not that Mundus knew anything about that last bit, but Cuddles _certainly_ knew who this man was. He was a legend, he was the one, the only, the most brilliant…

"MREOW!" Cuddles yowled.

Yes, Colonel Sanders.

The man slowly stooped down to pick up Mundus. He held him upside down, poked and prodded him and various areas before nodding with satisfaction and trying to rip off his legs. Mundus squawked and looked extremely pissed off by this less than respectful treatment and immediately started trying to peck the good colonel.

However, his attack was all in vain. Cuddles watched happily as the man walked off, with the angry turkey tucked away safely under his arm. He mewed and started to groom himself, acting totally unconcerned.

In the meantime, while all of this was going on, Vergil continued to stare perversely at the naked bra-less big busted woman. The woman frowned and then caught him staring, wondering why exactly there was a handsome man staring at her. After all, didn't every single English woman run out of the house with no clothes on when it was sunny? Unfortunately for her, she had no clue that Vergil had spent the last few years in the underworld, without a lot of human contact aside from when he fought with his brother.

But, well…he couldn't really be classed as a human either, could he?

Certainly not!

But, he suddenly realized that he hadn't ever been on a date, and now that he was back in the human realm for what seemed like a little while at least, now would probably be a good time to try.

He grinned, feeling confident that his looks and his looks only would bowl her over. After all, he _did_ look like an Adonis and he'd read lots of books where girls flung themselves at attractive men as soon as aforementioned man looked their way. So, Vergil stuck his chest out, sucked in his already flat stomach, giving himself the appearance of looking anorexic and strutted towards the woman.

'Hello!' he drawled, expecting to be regaled by hugs and kisses galore. The woman merely sat where she was on the grass and frowned at him. Vergil didn't notice; his eyes were firmly riveted on her breasts. He cleared his throat, thinking that a compliment was definitely in order. He cleared his throat again and grinned in what he imagined was a seductive manner.

'Your breasts are like the beautiful Columbian peaks!' He crowed. The woman did not look impressed to say the least. Vergil managed to draw his attention away from her breasts to stare at her face for a moment. Okay…this wasn't going very well…he sighed, trying out another compliment. 'I can't wait to get my handies on your Andes!' He cried.

Cuddles looked up from his daily grooming session to watch as his pet hybrid yowled like a demented cat. Entirely unconcerned, he looked towards the girl Vergil had been trying unsuccessfully to chat up. It seemed as though she had screamed loudly and had slapped him, sending him into alternate bouts of seething pain and mental anguish. Vergil sighed and retreated so then he was sitting beside the demonic cat.

'I don't know how my brother does it, Cuddles,' he sighed. Cuddles frowned as best as a cat could before daintily licking his paws. If he had been able to speak English, he would have told Vergil that Dante also had no luck with women and chose to be like their gay best friend indeed. He would have also told Vergil that the reason why he had no luck was because he had inherited his mother's lack of social finesse.

Indeed, it was a great secret that Sparda had only fallen in love with Eva because she had intrigued him by her stupidity. He had followed her about, had impregnated her and become a husband all in a bid to see whether Eva was actually smart. Of course, the fact that he had been in heat at the time was just by the by. And as it turned out, Eva only got smart after she had given birth to the twins.

Apparently, labour pains will do that to a person and completely alter their mind-frame. But Sparda, being Sparda put it all down to the fact that he had worked miracles and was therefore brilliant.

Vergil sighed before looking around, suddenly noticing something amiss.

'Hey? Where's Mundus?'

---

Cuddles had eventually been forced to track down the turkey, only co-operating when the hybrid told him that he wouldn't buy him anymore Whisker's cat-food and would buy him something horrible, like KittyKat instead. Cuddles' food meant a lot to him, and Vergil had promised that once they found Mundus and got him out of whatever trouble he'd inevitably got himself into, he would buy Cuddles a lovely roast chicken all for himself.

So it was that Cuddles happily trotted along the road, with Vergil following close behind, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the easily offended English public. Eventually, the cat came to a stop and mewed loudly, causing Vergil to look up from where he had been staring at the ground. He had found a lot of interesting things while staring at the ground, including an abandoned sock and little white balloons. He had been ill during the sex ed classes and so, knew nothing. As he stared at the building before him, he gasped in delight. For before him stood…

'BURGER KING!'

Well, no, actually it was Kentucky Fried Chicken but Vergil hadn't seen any kind of fast-food joint for one hell of a long time. The main reason for this somewhat excusable behaviour was because the only thing they had in the underworld that was remotely similar was a place called "Babies Yum Yum" which was run by Phantom. Surprisingly, it did not sell babies and for this, Vergil was thankful. However, it sold cattle dung, a rare delicacy amongst demons but one that Vergil had been pleased to do without. It was a thing that Vergil was proud of to say the least.

He slowly frowned at Cuddles.

'Why is Mundus at Burger King?' Cuddles mewed and if Vergil _really_ knew his pet fully instead of just loving him, he would have known that the demonic cat was laughing at him as evilly as he could. Vergil sighed before doing the only thing he could; he walked inside, eyes wide as a huge variety of food accosted his senses. He looked around for any traces of a turkey before grumbling and walking right into the area where no one walked into if they could help it.

That's right.

Hell.

Or rather…

The kitchen.

While Vergil was hunting the kitchen for any signs of a lost fat turkey, Cuddles blinked in surprise as he watched the elderly man from before run out from the back, giving vent to angry gobbling noises. Cuddles blinked in astonishment before finally being able to put two and two together. He shook his head slowly before yowling loudly, over and over again.

Vergil, scared that Cuddles had come into heat despite the fact that he had castrated him using his own sword, ran out of the kitchen and picked up the demonic cat in a valiant but stupid bid to comfort him. His pet snarled immediately and clawed at him while Vergil, being more in shock than in pain dropped him onto the ground.

'Cuddles!' he whimpered, his voice wobbling dangerously. 'Why are you being so _mean_ to me? I mean, I've _never_ been mean to _you_! Never! I've given you the best food I possibly can, I protected you from those male hell sluts Mundus sent after us and I even made sure you didn't get hurt by those mean old ladies in the supermarket! Why, Cuddles? WHY?' he bawled. And then, still sniffling and whimpering like a sap, he reached into the deepest pocket of his blue coat and pulled out a cuddly toy rabbit that Eva had made especially for him. He snuggled it, sighed and then finally, calmed down.

Yet another deep dark secret that Vergil protected with all the ferocity of a wet ball of fluff.

With teeth.

Cuddles rolled his eyes at this unmanly behaviour before suddenly launching himself at him and snatching the toy rabbit away from him and running off with it in his mouth.

'WIBBLE!' Vergil screamed with horror, his most prized possession having been stolen away without so much as a by-his-leave. He sat there for a moment or two before his eyes narrowed dangerously, suddenly turning into the bad-ass that many of us have seen before and have come to love. He snarled before racing after his cat, with all the insanity of an angry pink elephant on steroids.

Cuddles rolled his eyes yet again, in what was considered a very sanctimonious manner, especially for a cat to pull off considering his face didn't have as many muscles as Vergil's. Still, as he ran down the road with a mouldy toy which had once been vomited upon and thrice peed upon in his mouth, he couldn't help but remind himself as to _why_ exactly he was deciding to help Mundus and save him instead of leaving him to his fate.

Well, the answer was a rather simple one. The show of seeing Mundus trying to cope in the human realm was rather an entertaining one and it would be such a shame if the amusement suddenly came to a halt, all because of the fact that his hybrid pet, or rather, his mongrel had no bloody clue where to look. Cuddles gave a quick glance over his shoulder before speeding up just a touch, noting with a small amount of amusement that Vergil looked reminiscent of a rabid dog which had been hit one too many times by a brick wall.

Still, Cuddles had a job to do and he knew somehow, that the worst was yet to come…

**To Be Continued…**

**Sometime in the near future…**

**Or distant…**

**Depending on when the authoress gets her arse together…**

**Which might be never…**

**DUM DUM DUM!**


End file.
